


Let Us Cling Together

by PumpkinLily



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (we'll see if I can write smut), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But I don't want Freddie to die again, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Freddie only wants some love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, I haven't planned the ending, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Paul's actions are questionable as expected, Phoebe is great, Pining, Questioning, Roger is a Sweetheart, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Tags Will Probably Change, eventual mutual pining, froger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-13 16:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinLily/pseuds/PumpkinLily
Summary: Hear my song,Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me...Roger felt, once more, than this line had been written for him. For years, he have been thinking about Freddie this way. Meeting Dominique made him think it could change eventually. But the emotional whirlwind he was experiencing now proved his feelings merely had stayed dormant in a corner of his mind, waiting to be awaken again.He never fell out of love with Freddie. He didn’t know if he ever could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I have to write the next chapter of my fic  
Also me: But wait I have this new idea for a fic ! I MUST write it !
> 
> Writing Queen stories set in the 70s means the boys are young, it feels like anything is possible, that the future isn't set in stone. But the 80s bring other things. When I think about Queen in the 80s, I think about Freddie, AIDS, his suffering, how he did what he loved until the end, how I wished things would have been different for him. 
> 
> Setting a story in the 80s means more or less facing AIDS. I tried to think sometimes about when did Freddie exactly caught it. I asked myself "If I were to write a story where Freddie doesn't catch the disease, when would it happen?", given HIV blowns into AIDS between 5 and 10 years, and for Freddie, it started to develop around 1986/1987. 
> 
> So, I had to take the date into account, things that happened in Freddie's life in the late 70's, things that happened to Roger, because I wanted to write Froger. Froger is very dear to me, I love the relationship of these two, and I know if I were to write a story where Freddie and Roger got into a relationship later in their life (understand "not in the 70s"), I doubt I'd let Freddie die in the end. I haven't written the ending yet, but I'd like to make him live, so be it if it's only in fiction.
> 
> So, here it is. I hope you'll enjoy the read.

The sudden ring of the telephone blasted through the room, startling Roger, who was starting to get sleepy. He glanced at the TV, showing an old movie in black and white of which he remembered watching the beginning. It couldn’t be that late already. Either this film was really soporific, or he needed more hours of sleep. He blinked a few times, slowly focusing on the ring, and groaned while getting up from the couch. He stepped over the coffee table and grabbed the phone, wondering what time it is.

“Hello?” He asked, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Hi dear. ‘Hope I’m not bothering you.”

His sleepy state immediately disappeared. There was something off with Freddie’s cheerful tone. He caught his ragged breath, and knew his friend was actually distressed, but pretended to be okay. He may even have been crying.

“N-Never, Fred. What’s wrong?”

“H-How do you…” There was a short moment of silence. “…Could you come, please?” He asked, without trying to hide his state of mind this time.

“I’m on my way. Don’t worry.” He responded with a soft voice before hanging up. 

He quickly grabed his leather jacket, hastily put on some shoes and left his flat, without bothering to turn off neither the TV nor the lights. Dominique will probably complain about it in the morning, but whatever, he had an emergency. Plus he had enough money to deal with more expensive bills now.

Two minutes later, Roger was driving, hands tightly gripped on the wheel. He hoped nothing grave happened, but each second passing made him a bit more upset. Fortunately, the trip to Freddie’s place was a short one, he didn’t have time to break the speed limit nor to think about hypothetical horrible scenarios. He left his car at the first parking place he found, close a non-working street lamp, slammed the door, and rushed to the front door. Freddie had got himself a nice house here, at Stafford Terrace, but now wasn’t the time to admire the architecture. 

He rang, and waited. Only silence responded. He lowered his eyes to the handle. The door was closed, but not locked, as he opened it without any difficulty. He took a cautious step inside, eyeing the entrance for any sign that could indicate something bad had happened. Everything seemed in order, but it was quiet, and the quietness of the place only made him more upset. It didn’t feel like this lively and warm home where his friend actually lived. 

When he entered the living room, he immediately noticed the remains of a vase on the floor, splattered around the sideboard in a puddle of water. A bouquet of freesias was lying on the ground as well. His eyes traveled up, and his heart sunk. Freddie was sitting on the floor, back against the comfortable looking couch filled with cushions. Head lowered, legs hunched, he was absentmindedly petting Tom, lying next to him. Jerry was there too, snuggled against his legs. His brown eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were dull, almost lifeless. Roger then noticed a tear running down his cheek, followed by a sniff. He couldn’t remember the last time his friend looked so miserable.

_‘The hell are you waiting for?! He’s crying! Do something!’_

As soon as he took another step, pointed ears shifted towards him. Two pairs of golden eyes opened, and both the cats emitted a small meow as they saw the drummer. The sound seemed to revive Freddie, as his head slightly moved in his direction, and his lips formed a semblance of a smile, while a tiny spark passed in his dark eyes. 

“Roggie.” He sounded happy to see him, but his voice was awfully close to breaking. 

Roger showed his friend a hesitant smile, which disappeared as soon as he noticed a red mark on his left cheek. Tom left his spot and walked to him. He slowly rubbed himself against his leg, before walking back to his human’s side, eyes fixed on the blonde. 

Freddie sniffed, and his smile grew a bit wider. “I think he wants you to come closer, darling.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to his side, gently lifting Jerry up and placing him a bit further away, so he could sit besides Freddie. The cat then hopped on the couch, joining Tom, who went to snuggle against a colorful cushion. Sweet cats. Their presence helped his friend, and now he would do the same. 

“…What happened, Fred?” He asked softly, his clear eyes meeting his brown eyes. “Your cheek…”

He lost his smile. “Oh, i-it’s nothing.” He assured, although he knew his friend won’t have it. And his frown, coupled with his serious expression, confirmed it.

“Freddie, that’s not nothing.” He leaned a bit closer. “Did someone hit you? What happened ?” He asked once again, concern showing in his voice.

The singer blinked rapidly, feeling the tears coming again. He swept them with his forefinger, but some others appeared right after, blurring his vision. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t cry, not again. He tried to breath in and out slowly, but- 

_‘I can’t go on like this, Freddie.’_

Everything violently came back to mind. 

The dreaded words, their voices gradually going louder until they were yelling. In the heat of the moment, a few punches were thrown, fueled by anger and frustration, followed by a vase being knocked out. Only the loud sound of the porcelain shattering managed to stop them. In the deafening silence, the both of them realised the hit on each other’s face. Freddie felt mortified.

“…I didn’t want to…” He slowly got closer, not daring to touch him. “…Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He repeated a few times, feeling more awful each second passing. “I’m s-sorry…”

He remembered the remorse and sorrow in his eyes. The gentle way he hold his hands, telling him how much he regretted it too. The last sentences they exchanged, in a calm yet uneasy tone, before he let go of his hands. The last look they shared, horribly soft, before he left, suitcases in hands. The sound of the door closing, and himself collapsing on the floor. 

A sob escaped his mouth, and Roger’s heart cracked. He instinctively leaned towards his friend, and Freddie threw himself in his arms, burying his head on his shoulder, his hands gripping the blonde’s waist tight as the tears run down his cheeks, and his ragged breath evolved into heartbreaking crying. Roger stayed silent, and gently warped his arms around his friend, resting his hands on his back. 

“Joe a-and I… bro-oke up…” He managed to say between two sobs.

Roger immediately thought about the mark on his friend’s cheek, and a wave of anger flew through him. Freddie told him, a bit worried, that Joe had been drinking quite a lot lately. And he had noticed things had seemed a bit tensed between the two, but he had also seen how Freddie was invested in his relationship. Joe must have told he wanted to break up, Freddie was still in love, a fight occurred, and- 

He shivered, and held his friend a bit tighter. He really hoped Freddie hadn’t received other blows. 

His right hand slowly stroked his backside, hoping it would comfort him, because he felt powerless, and not being able to do much for him was horrible. He couldn’t remember the last time he witnessed Freddie cry so much. 

“I-I loved him, Rog… Re-eally… And he-he said he couldn’t-” A heartbreaking sob cut him, and his grip on his waist tightened.

Once again, Roger stayed silent. Freddie didn’t finish his sentence, but he knew how his friend had to hide his relationship with Joe from almost everyone. It had been the same with his first boyfriend, David, back when he feared even more his parents’ reaction concerning his attraction to men, back when admitting to Mary they couldn’t be together had seem impossible. Roger remembered how hard it had been for him to leave her, to accept himself, because of the things he had told and promised to her. No future with Mary, no marriage, no baby from her. 

He knew Freddie has been happy with David after that, but he also knew how his friend’s relationship with the younger man suffered from the outside’s pressure. How he couldn’t get it off his shoulders. 

Silently, he raged against the world. Freddie should be able to love men and have a boyfriend without life being consequently harder for him. It was fucking unfair. 

He continued to stroke his back, and eventually heard his sobs getting more and more spaced out. It took several minutes for Freddie to completely stop crying. He slowly leaned away from his shoulders, wiped one more time the remains of tears in his eyes, and looked at his friend. His eyes were painfully redden, but at least his cries had stopped.

“Thank you Rog. You’re…” He tried to talk more, but he was emotionally and physically drained. That wasn’t good. He believed Roger deserved proper thanks, and he couldn’t even give them. What kind of friend was he? “…Sorry. I’m such a mess.” He ultimately said, a self-depreciated smile on his face. “I can’t even tell you how much you're the best.”

“It’s alright Fred.” Roger assured softly, hesitantly laying a hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to.” He added, fixing his deep brown eyes. He had his heart in his throat. 

Eventually, his friend smiled again, and he felt better. He would do anything to bring a smile on his face. Freddie without a smile was like a sun that’s not shining.

The cat lover glanced at the couch, and noticed Tom looking at him. He leaned away from Roger, and as he slowly got up, the tabby cat got up too, obviously expecting something.

He smiled affectionately, and gave him a pet on the head. “I know, you’re hungry again.” 

Tom followed him as he walked towards the kitchen, where his dish was situated. Roger heard a thud close to him, and barely had the time to catch the sight of Jerry, quickly heading for the food too. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see anything, but he heard the biscuits being discharged, then Freddie telling soft words to his cats. His stomach rumbled, and he remembered he hasn’t had dinner. He checked the plate clock on the wall; it was almost 8 already. It was really old-fashioned, at least for his taste, but Freddie loved it for the cute and colorful painting of a kitten on its center. Sure, he understood, kittens were a favorite, but what if people started to paint cars as well on plates? He certainly would be their first client.

“You still think it’s something only your granny would possess?” 

His blue eyes left the clock, and he noticed his friend looking at him, standing in the doorway. “Yeah. It’s not very modern. Not quite an object you’d think a rock star would hang on their wall.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Darling, you know I’m not like any rock star.” He got closer to him, so he could have a better view of the clock, and his smile grew wider. “Most importantly, you know I’m a cat lover before anything else.”

“Of course.” Roger said, and this is moment his stomach chooses to rumble again. The sound didn’t escape Freddie, who showed an amused smile.

“’Haven’t eaten yet, dear?”

“No. Man, I think I’d kill for some food.” He joked, although he was really hungry

“Well, I’d offer you something to eat, but there’s no leftovers, and I’m afraid my cooking skills haven’t progressed since we shared a flat, darling.” Freddie admitted, and his smile faltered. “…You’d have a better chance back home with Dominique.”

Roger frowned. He had no intent of leaving his friend now. “What about you? You must be hungry too.” 

He stayed silent, and shrugged eventually. Roger knew he didn’t have a big appetite – which must be even smaller after the break up, and he figured eating is the last thing he wanted right now. In itself, skipping dinner wouldn’t be exactly bad for him, but the blonde wanted to do more for his friend than simply comforting him. There must be something left in the fridge. Or even the kitchen’s cupboards were empty and he really had nothing edible left, aside from tea, alcohol and cat food. 

He felt something light passing against his leg. Looking down, he saw Tom and Jerry standing at their feet, requesting to be pet. At least some occupants here who had been fed.

“Typical of you. You think about feeding your cats before feeding yourself.” He craned to caress Tom, but continued to look at Freddie, who eventually looked away.

“Well, you know my babies are important.” He assured in a low voice, and crouched to caress Jerry. He knew his friend was reproaching him of not caring more about himself. 

“Of course, but you’re important too.” He crouched too, and his free hand laid on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to go to sleep with an empty stomach. I can cook us dinner, if you want.”

Freddie’s eyes shifted back to him. He seemed surprised to hear he wanted to stay with him. “…What about Dominique?”

“She’s out for the night with friends.” He briefly explained. “Besides, even if she was home, I’d still stay here with you. You won’t get rid of me so easily.” He added with a grin.

Freddie smiled back, and his cheeks gained a bit of colour again. He felt immensely grateful. As he got up, he noticed the remains of the vase at the corner of his eye. His eyes lingered on the white freesias, seemingly intact in the middle of all the shards. His heart tightened, and he couldn’t help but touch the spot on his cheek where he had received a blow. It still hurt, but not enough to make him wince anymore. Though his heart’s wound wouldn’t heal anytime soon.

“Freddie?” 

He forsook the flowers, and looked at Roger. His clear eyes were filled with concern. “Don’t worry dear. It’s nothing serious.”

The blonde frowned. His friend couldn’t start saying things like this. It was like hearing his mother assure to his young teen self she just had an “accident” again, when he feared, and knew, what really occured. “No Fred, he hit you. That’s not okay. He shouldn’t have-”

“I hit him too!” He blurted, and Roger’s eyes widened. In his look, there was only disbelief, but Freddie saw nothing but disappointement. “…We started to fight, and…” He looked away, and his heart tightened even more. “I, I just didn’t want him to leave, and… it happened.”

He didn’t dare looking at his friend. He felt horrible, and it wouldn’t surprise him if words full of reproach came out of his mouth. He thought he deserved it anyway, and waited for his remark. But after a few seconds, two arms warpped themselves around him, and comforting hands laid on his back. Roger’s embrace was warm, pleasant, and emotions started to overflow. Freddie grabbed his waist, and slowly breathed in, then out, hoping to calm himself. It wasn’t really effective.

“I loved him, Rog... I-I didn’t want to hurt him… ” He said with a low and painful voice.

The blonde felt a pang to his heart. “I know.” He assured in a soft voice while slowly stroking his back. Freddie had never been violent. Neither had been Joe, actually. It was just so easy for things to escaladate because of anger, suffering and frustration, and lead to a fight. "... And after that?"

“…Told him I was sorry. And, Joe told me he was sorry too.” He stopped for a moment, letting thoughts full of guilt and regrets take over his mind. Quickly, the silence became horrible. “Still, that’s-it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Fred, stop.” He leaned backwards to fix his look, and grabbed his shoulders. “You both shouldn’t have hit each other, but what’s done is done. You both have said sorry, and now, the most important is that you don’t do it again. Okay?”

Freddie couldn’t do anything but look back into his eyes. “…Okay.”

Roger smiled again, and he let go of his friend. He lowered his eyes to the ground, towards the remains of the vase. Freddie had bought it during one of their many trips to Japan. A beautiful white vase decorated with a delicate blue and red painting of a blossoming cherry tree, in which he always liked to put some nice bouquets of flowers. Most particularly, freesias, his favorites. It was a shame, he really liked the vase too. 

Freddie crouched again, this time to focus on what was left of his beloved possession. His dark eyes were filled with sadness. It happened so fast, he couldn’t remember who knocked the vase out. Joe had been closer to the sideboard, but maybe if he had been more careful- Maybe if he simply had accepted Joe’s decision instead of pleading- 

A sigh escaped his lips. It wasn’t like any of this mattered anymore. 

In silence, he started collecting all the shards. Roger decided to take care of the beautiful freesias, who were still laying in a puddle of water. He carefully picked them up, and went to find a large glass in the kitchen, since he couldn’t see another vase in the room. Rummaging through the cupboards, he realised Freddie had more stemmed glasses than anything, but he managed to find a suitable one. In no time, the flowers were back on the dark wooden sideboard, ready to be admired again. Freddie, who had finished gathering the pieces, took the time to look at them, and a small smile appeared on his face. He was feeling a bit better already. 

“Sorry, that’s the best thing I found.” Roger said, scratching the back of his head. 

He stayed silent for a short moment. “Well of course, it lacks the beauty and the refinement of a porcelain vase, but until I find another one, this’ll do. Thanks Rog.”

“I didn’t do much, you know.”

He glanced at the ground. “…Of course I know, there’s still water on the ground!” He exclaimed overdramatically. “Please, use your talented hands and mop up this puddle, darling.” He asked with a playful smile.

Roger rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. He responded with a “Yes Master”, and turned back, but he hadn’t taken a step yet that Freddie landed a light smack on his bum, causing a falsely indignant cry. “And hurry up!” He added with a giggle.

  


**-***-**

  


After searching through the kitchen, it turned up there wasn’t much food left – at least food other than cat food. Since they weren’t desperate and neither of them felt like going out to a restaurant, Roger decided to spoil Freddie and himself, and ordered some delicious Japanese dishes. Hopefully, he could experience another trip in their beloved country – it was a band’s favorite – soon, outside of a tour, and use the opportunity to find a beautiful vase for Freddie. Unfortunately, Japan seemed even further away for now. November, and the Crazy Tour, would arrive soon enough, and he doubted he will have time for a vacation in the mean time.

The shining colour of the grand black piano caught his attention. Their meal wouldn't arrive in the next minutes, and Freddie left to take a shower. No one was here to play music.

…Maybe it was his chance to try his musical talents on the majestic instrument. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. 

Once he was settled on the black velvet seat, his index lightly tapped on the keys in a quick rhythm. What could he play? Not that he could actually play piano, but who knows, maybe magic would take place and make him do wonders. Or more realistically, his lack of experience and knowledge of the instrument would result in a very awkward composition. At least only Tom and Jerry would be there to witness him butcher songs.

He had to start with something easy. He valiantly tried to play _Row, Row, Row Your Boat_, but if each of his hands could play a different part, this song revealed itself as really difficult.

After a few tries though, he managed to do something that resembled the original melody, but really slowed down, and with some audible uncertainty behind the notes. Still, this small success invigorated him, enough for him to be daring Why wouldn’t he try to play one of their songs? Since he was no Freddie, he just needed a slow, “relatively” simple rhythm, like… _Lily Of The Valley_, for example.

With a smile and his newfound confidence, he placed his hands on the piano, and started to play.

Ouch.

It was a good thing pianos weren’t alive, because he was certain this one would have either screamed of pain, or gain sentience exclusively to roast him and his awful skills. 

He didn’t loose hope, and continued to play for several minutes. In the end, it was still a disaster. Of course, no one, not even the great and unique Roger Taylor himself, could master the piano in a quarter of hour. And he tortured the poor instrument enough, he went back to create a quick rhythm with his fingers. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips.

He heard someone clapping. “I admire your persistence, darling.”

Colour deserted his face. Had Freddie been listening to him miserably trying to play _the whole time_?

_‘He must be laughing his head off.’_ The blonde thought, embarassed by his meagre performance in front of the fantastic piano player. He dared looking at him, and noticed that his friend’s smile was sincere, without mockery. 

He scoffed. “You have a funny way of telling I played like shit.”

Freddie frowned, and crossed the living room to get closer. He laid a hand on his shoulder, and showed him a comforting look. “Roger, you’ve never had any piano lessons, it’s obvious you wouldn’t have been able to play like Chopin.”

“No need to dig up an old dead guy, there’s already one piano genius here.” Roger flashed him a grin.

A light blush took over his friend’s cheeks, and he looked away, embarrassed by his compliment. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m not that good.”

“Cut the crap Fred, we all know you’re a very talented piano player.” He assured, keeping this kind of grin which could illuminate a room. 

He then left the seat, and leaned against the side of the instrument. His blue eyes were locked in Freddie’s. 

“And I think the piano misses having a very talented piano player…” He continued with a suave voice.

Freddie snorted. “You want a private concert, uh?” His dark eyes were twinkling. “It’d be my pleasure. Let me just have a quick drink, and I’m all yours, darling.” He winked playfully, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Roger’s smile widened in anticipation. It had been a while since he crashed at Freddie’s home, and asked him to play piano. In no time, the singer was back to his side, with a chair for him, since the piano seat was way too narrow for two persons. He sit, and watched him stretch his arms, before strategically placing his hands above certain keys. 

"Do you want to hear a song in particular?" He asked with a smile.

"Well... Since I completely butchered _Lily Of The Valley_, maybe you could patch it up and bring it back its beauty."

Honestly, he would have loved to hear My Melancholy Blues. This song was magnificent, a solid proof of Freddie’s great talent at piano – and writing beautiful songs, and he believed it would have been perfect for this quiet evening. But since his friend experienced a break up today, ask him to play a song which talked about the end of a relationship would be tactless. Freddie might be strong, but he wouldn't want to involuntarily add salt to his wounds.

He laughed at the blonde’s words. “Nice choice Rog, though I haven’t played this one for a while now. I hope I won’t make any mistakes.”

Roger showed him a warm smile, and whispered “I don’t care if you make mistakes”. 

The silence came back in the room, but only for a few seconds, as the first notes of the song, slow and light, were played. Freddie’s voice, soft and melodic, quickly followed, and Roger was pleasantly surprised. Not because it sounded better than what he expected – Freddie and his voice never disappointed, even if they weren’t perfect – but because he didn’t think he would sing too. Encouraged by his performance, he tried to accompany him and sing the harmonies of the song, and even if he couldn’t replace the rest of the instrumental by himself, it felt really nice, the two of them singing, their voices complemented by the piano. Sharing a moment like this with Freddie truly felt like a privilege. 

During this kind of moment, he didn’t feel like being a rock star in a famous and successful rock band, with tons of fans across the planet and many superb albums to their credit. He just felt lucky to know Freddie, his dear friend who happened to be a great piano player, and possess the most beautiful voice a human could ever be gifted with. 

As the last notes of the short song are played, Roger could assure Freddie didn’t make a single mistake, whether about the notes or the lyrics. Or if he made some, he didn’t notice it. 

“…So, how d-”

“That was great, Freddie.” He assured before his friend can finish his sentence. “I don’t even know why you ask, you know I’ll always find what you play super great.” 

A shy but grateful smile appeared on the singer’s face. “Thanks, dear. ‘Glad to hear I’m not getting rusty yet.”

He gave him a light smack on the shoulder. “C’mon, you’ll never get rusty Fred. Even in the next century, in the next millennium, I’m sure people will continue to listen to your music.”

“Roger, you know the next century will be the next millennium, right?” He said with a smile.

“Well-You know what I mean!” He laid his hand on his friend’s arm, just under his shoulder, and gazed at him. “Freddie, people will continue to listen to your music for an infinity of years. And if, for some extraordinary reason, people stop, know that I’ll always listen. I’ll always be your biggest fan.” He proclaimed, dreamy and serious at the same time. 

The singer staid silent for a few seconds, taken aback by such a heartfelt declaration. “…And if I stop making music?” He asked, brown eyes still locked in his blue eyes. 

Roger’s expression seemed to soften, as for the grip on his arm. He felt his cheeks getting warmer. “Well, under all your costumes and your stage identity, there still will be the Freddie Bulsara I’ve known for years. And no matter what happens, I’ll never stop admiring and loving him.”

Another smile, as shy and even more grateful, grew on Freddie’s face. His cheeks also gained a bit of colour from the confession. He didn’t know what he did to deserve Roger. Like earlier, he wished he could express how much his friend was the best, and like earlier, he lacked words to properly do it. 

That’s what he thought, at first. But then, an idea popped into his mind. He had the words for it. And the melody too. 

His hands shifted back above the keys, and Roger got his hand off his arm. He glanced at him; he was waiting, patient and excited to hear him. 

“Rog dear, could you go over there, on the right?” He asked, pointing the spot with his head. “I can’t offer a private concert without any public.” 

“…Oh, right.” He moved where the singer had asked him, and it was obvious he had a much better view of him and the piano there. It truly felt like it was a show. A show specially for him. 

Freddie checked he was ready, then showed a warm smile. “…The next song here is dedicated to a very special person.” He said, as if he was speaking to an imaginary audience. “A dear friend of mine. I can’t see him, but I know he’s there, among all of you, listening to me. This is my way of saying “thank you”.”

He started to play, and Roger recognised the first notes of _Teo Torriatte_. In the quietness of the moment, the piano seemed to resonate through the room, through his ears. 

_When I’m gone,  
No need to wonder if I ever think of you..._

Hearing Freddie’s voice sent shivers down his spine. Slowly, the rest of world seemed to stop existing. Nothing else mattered outside the singer. He focused on the steady movement of his delicate hands across the keys, on his semi-closed eyes, on the way his lips moved, and he felt like he could breathe again. As the second verse began, unconsciously, he started to mouth the lyrics silently. This song was a love song dedicated to their beloved country, Japan. Roger knew Brian had a talent to write beautiful and heartfelt songs, but he never realised how the guitarist’s songs could hit close to the heart more than now, as he pronounced “_There’s no one else could warm my heart as much as you…_”.

Just before the chorus, Freddie glanced at him, and showed a warm smile. Roger felt a lump forming in his throat.

_Let us cling together as the years go by,  
Oh my love, my love…_

It was a good thing he wasn’t actually singing, because emotions would have broken his voice. 

Flawlessly, Freddie sang the Japanese lyrics, of which the blonde couldn’t remember more than the first line. He really wished he had a cymbal to accompany the piano and his beautiful voice.

_Hear my song,  
Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me..._

Roger felt, once more, than this line had been written for him. For years, he have been thinking about Freddie this way. Meeting Dominique made him think it could change eventually. But the emotional whirlwind he was experiencing now proved his feelings merely had stayed dormant in a corner of his mind, waiting to be awaken again. 

He never fell out of love with Freddie. He didn’t know if he ever could. 

_When I’m gone,  
They’ll say we’re all fools and we don’t understand…_

His voice, now powerful for the last verse, snapped Roger out of his thoughts. His eyes focused again on Freddie, who was pouring his soul into the song, seemingly possessed by the music. The instrumental wasn’t as deep and impacting, without Brian’s guitar, but it allowed the singer to be heared more clearly and be appreciated even more. “_Don’t turn your heart_” created another lump in his throat. His voice, his passion, was mesmerising, and Roger believes he couldn’t have teared his eyes away from Freddie even if the end of the world occured.

_We’re all,_  
_You’re all,_  
_For all,_  
_For always…_

In a second, Freddie’s voice shifted from strenght to softness. Deeply touched, breathless, Roger blinked, and he realised he had tears in his eyes. Tears which were close to flow. Tears the singer may have noticed, as he glanced at him, just before the chorus showed up for the last time. He swallowed.

_Let us cling together as the years go by…  
Oh my love, my love…_

He bit the inside of his lip, but felt something light and wet tickle his skin. Oh well. If he had to cry, let it be with a smile. Freddie deserved one anyway, if only for his magnificent performance.

_In the quiet of the night,_  
_Let our candle always burn,_  
_Let us never lose the lessons we have learned…_

The last notes are played, and Freddie’s hands linger on the keys, until the room became silent again. His deep brown eyes were on his friend; he had noticed he had cried.

“…Roger?” He asked, a bit of concern showing in his soft voice.

He blinks one more time, quickly wipping away the tears. “’M fine, don’t worry. I just-” He sniffed loudly. “See, you’re so skilled you made cry!” He exclaims, keeping his smile.

Freddie seemed troubled by his reaction. “…I’m sor-”

“That’s a compliment you dummy! You-You don’t have to be sorry for being so good at music you make people cry. Anyone who told they’ve never cried once listening to your voice is a-a fucking liar.” He assured, eyes redden.

An awkward smile grew on his face. “Thank you dear.”

“Oh don’t thank me, I’m the one who should thank you for singing, for-for a lot of things, really.”

A mere “thank you” would be piddling, compared to all the things he really wanted to express. But for now, it would be enough.

“So, thank you Freddie.” He gave him what he believed to be the most ridiculously heartfelt, admiring smile ever. “Thank you for everything.”

Cheeks reddening, the singer return a cute smile, even daring to let appear a bit of his teeth, and Roger fell a bit more in love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thing, I'll try me best to upload as regularly as possible - usually on week-ends. Since I have school and other things, I also might not be able to upload every week, so it'll be either that or an upload every two weeks. 
> 
> Also, I have a Tumblr exclusively for the stuff I make about Queen - mostly fanfictions, but I'll try to make a few drawings for example. There's not a lot of stuff, but if you're interested in checking out : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pumpkinlilyao3

The music flow carried on for several minutes, made up of beautiful notes and a continuously enchanted Roger. Eventually, the ring at the door interrupted Freddie’s play of _Killer Queen_, and Roger got up to retrieve the much awaited dinner. He absolutely loved hearing his friend play music, but the piano didn’t fill his stomach. The table was set in a swift, and the two started to eat. Roger eyed his tray of colourful sushis with envy, before gobbling up a good portion of it, and Freddie couldn’t help but smile.

“You look like you haven’t eat in days, Rog.”

“Well-” He took another delicious bite. “’Told you I could kill for some food.” 

“True, I guess.” He admitted, visually appreciating his tray of fine sashimis. He heard a close mewl, and noticed Jerry standing at his feet, looking at him expectantly. “Are you hungry again, sweetie?” 

The cat then jumped on the table, and got closer to the food. Freddie gave him a few caresses, then gently put him back on the ground before he could snack a sashimi.

Roger, on his side, saw Tom laying on his flank, blinking at him. An idea appears in his mind. “You know what I could have cooked for dinner?”

“Go on, dear.” The singer says, a curious smile on his face.

“An exquisite cat stew.” 

That was when he noticed Tom, looking obviously relaxed, laying next to the potential cruel cook. The thought of his tabby sweetheart being cut into pieces with carrots and served in a saucepan grew a horrified expression on his face, which made the blonde burst out laughing. 

“Oh, Fred, y-you know I’m joking, right?” He said after taking the time to catch his breath. “I love Tom and Jerry as if they were my cats.”

Freddie sighed, but a new smile appeared on his face. “I know, you just make tasteless jokes.”

He grew a mischievous grin. “Well, I’m sure Tom would have had a wonderful taste with-”

“Roger Taylor, if you finish that sentence, I’ll drive your car.” He threatened, not entirely joking.

“But you can’t drive!”

“That’s the thing.” He announced in a menacing tone, holding his chopsticks like a weapon. “Think about the pond where your pretty metal machine will end up.”

The painful memories of his beloved red Ferrari’s tragic demise – it ended up in flames during a trip in France in August – flashed in his mind. He had no desire of losing his other car. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the jokes.”

“Smart decision.” He assured, before taking a bite out of his sashimis.

Roger avoided suggesting cooking up his friend’s beloved pets for the rest of dinner, instead talking about everything and nothing. The subject of music quickly came back though; they discussed their single _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ which would be released next month, the day of Freddie’s birthday, and of which the singer was pretty proud, and the fact Freddie had been approached by a certain Wayne Eagling, a dancer part of the Royal Ballet Company, to briefly perform for a charity event in October. He had accepted with enthusiasm, despite his complete lack of dancing skills. The drummer assured he would be in the public; he wouldn’t miss this show for anything in the world.

Later, the Crazy Tour was brought up, and Freddie confessed he couldn’t wait to go back on tour. He talked with a hopeful smile about opportunities, having a lot of fun, meeting new people, and Roger knew he wanted to find someone again. 

His heart tightened. Of course, he understood, the singer only wanted to love and be loved, but the Crazy Tour would only last for about a month. If he was to find a new man during this period of time, his relationship might be short-lived, and he knew how much Freddie, despite his claims of enjoying commitment-free sex to some people, only wished to have a stable partner he could share his life and take care of many cats with. Next to him, Brian had a wife and a child, same for John – except he had three children, and as about Dominique and him-

…Recently, she had talked about babies. He knew she wanted to have kids. He had been hesitant, admitting he didn’t know if he would be a good father. She then assured with a gentle tone and a radiant smile that he would be a great parent. Of course, the idea of children can seem scary and bring uncertainties, but after looking back, he could see himself raising a child with her. He loved Dominique after all, she was caring, intelligent, she had character, and many other qualities which made her a wonderful soul. And she was physically gorgeous.

But he could say the same about Freddie. 

His dearest friend was another wonderful soul in his life. And it could stay this way. There was no marriage planned, at least not for now, but he could go on and say yes to Dominique about children. Next year, he would become a proud parent, and ask Freddie to be the godfather of his son or daughter. His friend would certainly accept, and as he would evolve with his girlfriend, he would have to say goodbye to his feelings.

It was either Dominique, or Freddie. 

“-Rog? You listenin’?” 

The melodic voice of his friend suddenly came to his ears, and he blinked a few times. “Uh, sorry, I spaced out. What did you say?” 

Freddie wondered what he was thinking about. “…I asked if you wanted to play Scrabble.” 

“Of course I want!” He exclaimed, his blue eyes suddenly twinkling. “You know I never say no to Scrabble. And I have a revenge to take over you anyway!”

“Mmh, true. Well, you might prepare yourself for another defeat Rog.” The singer assured, a confident grin on his face.

“Pf!” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. As if he would loose today. “Let’s see who’ll cry to Tom and Jerry when my score will be over the roof.”

In a swift, the trays were replaced by a familiar beige board, and the two settled on their chair, letters on their wooden support, ready for victory. Since they started to play during their trips between two concert halls, a couple of years ago, the whole band got really good at Scrabble. Roger absolutely loved challenge – and winning over everyone, especially Brian, though it was never easy feat. 

Freddie started with an important score, of course. That was not okay. The disappointment of loosing to him over a single point was still stinging, and he couldn’t let him win again. An hour and a half passed in quietness – at least on the outside, because their minds worked like very loud and active words factories. During the game, Roger was so focused on getting his revenge, the thought about the choice between the two wonderful souls of his life left his mind. Freddie wasn’t only the man he was in love with, he was also a very good Scrabble player. 

A very good Scrabble player who snatched victory, again. 

“You hear that Rog? It’s the sound of your revenge getting away.” He taunted, a sly grin on his face, as his friend was half-whimpering, half-groaning, his hands gripping his head.

“Shut up…” He stayed still for a short moment, then abruptly sat up straight and fixed him in a determined way. “That was only a warm-up! This time I’m gonna win!”

He gathered all the letters and put them back in the small green bag. “We’ll see darling.”

  


**-***-**

  
“YES!!” Roger screamed, startling Tom and Jerry, who were resting on the couch. “See? ‘Told you I’d win this time!”

Not only did he finally win, but his score turned up largely superior. Victory has never tasted sweeter. 

Freddie lost, but he wasn’t that disappointed. He believed Roger would have kept asking for a revenge until he won, even if it meant not sleeping tonight. “I admit, I lost. Congrats, Rog.” 

“’Feels so good to win.” He let out with a radiant smile. “Even more by _fifty_ points!” He added proudly.

The singer grimaced through his smile. “I recognise I haven’t been at my best this time.”

“Well, if you want to try again, I’m afraid it’ll have to be postponed.” A sudden loud yawn and the heaviness of his eyes explained why. “Man, winning is exhausting. ‘Feel like I could fall asleep on the table.”

He snorted. “I doubt sleeping with your face on the board would be comfortable. I have a very nice guest room with a large bed and soft cushions, you know!”

Roger seemed to consider it. “…That does sound better than falling asleep on the table.” 

He helped gathering all the tiles, then neatly put away the game back in its designated place, in the white wooden sideboard under the TV. He was certain that eventually, Freddie would want his revenge, and he hoped the opportunity would present itself soon. Not only because he loved playing Scrabble, but also because he couldn't wait for another quality moment spent with Freddie, just the both of them.

Speaking of the devil, he was now back on the couch, giving Jerry some caresses. Love was flowing through his eyes and affectionate smile. Roger joined him, and scratched under Tom’s chin, occasioning more relaxing purring. They spent a quiet moment like this for about a minute, when suddenly Freddie seemed to remember something.

“…Oh, by the way, maybe you’d like a shower?”

Not that he stank, but it would be very much appreciated, even more since he could take a bath here. “I’d like to. Could you pick me something to wear? And y’know you don’t have to pick the fanciest thing you have!”

“I don’t promise anything dear.” Freddie explains with a smile, before leaving the couch and disappearing in his room, situated on the first floor.

He loved picking outfits for other people, to help getting them dazzling for an evening outside, or even simply making them beautiful for the day. Too bad he could take a lot of time for that, usually too much for Roger’s patience. So he rummaged through his numerous and various clothes, until a yellow shirt and white shorts with a red stripe fell in his hands. Definitely not the fanciest thing he had. For a second, he thought about giving them as clothes for the night. But then, his other pair of satin pyjamas, a dark blue one – he was wearing his favorite of the two, the red one – popped in his mind. Unconsciously, he put back the shirt and shorts inside the large closet. Satin was much better.

He could see it, it would fit Roger marvelously, and it was also very comfortable. And so, triumphant dark blue satin pyjamas quickly ended up in his hands. He took the time to admire the clothes, the soft material which was nicely reflecting the light, and stroked it with his thumb, a smile on his face. There was no way Roger wouldn’t love it.

He closed the cupboard’s doors, and his eyes shifted to his large bed, its white colour standing out even more under the bright light. His smile dropped. Right now, he couldn’t see the comfort it provided, its thick and fluffy cover, its soft cushions. What really jumped out at him was the absence of Joe next to him. No more tender hugs, no more kisses, no more warmth given by another body. Tom and Jerry would probably enjoy sleeping on the empty space, and he would appreciate their presence of course, but they couldn’t replace a boyfriend. 

…Maybe Roger would-

_‘Don’t be stupid. He has a girlfriend. And you’re not twenty and living in a dingy cold flat anymore.’_ He scolded interiorly.

He’d just have to sleep alone tonight. And tomorrow. And the night after, for who knows how long.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he walked to the bathroom. When he opened the door, Roger was there, brushing his teeth. Quickly, he noticed his friend at the corner of his eye, and turned towards him. That was when he noticed the satin pyjamas he had in hands, and he couldn’t say he was surprised Freddie didn’t really listen to his request. 

He emptied his mouth in the sink so he could talk intelligibly. “Fred, I told you y’didn’t have to pick something fancy…”

“Sorry, ‘couldn’t help it.” He unfolded the top so his friend could see how beautiful it was. “’Thought you would like it. Besides, it’s very soft and comfortable, you know.”

“Mmh.” He stretched his hand to touch the material. “I guess it is…”

He frowned. “C’mon, don’t be so difficult Rog, I’m only making you handsome for the night!”

The blonde was about to say he didn’t need to be, but ultimately decided it was useless. Besides, Freddie would be happy if he just accepted the clothes he picked for him. And so, he smiled, took the colourful pyjamas in hand; he was right, Freddie seemed happy, and seeing a smile on his face always felt good. He put the outfit on a stool, next to the bathtub, and went back to brushing his teeth. The bathroom went silent again, except for the toothbrush noises. 

He expected his friend to start brushing his teeth too, the sink was large enough for allowing two people to do it at the same time. But Freddie didn’t move, didn’t say anything either. He turned towards him once again, and he felt his heart drop as he saw the sadness in his soft eyes, on the way his lips twisted downside.

He quickly spat and cleaned his mouth, put his toothbrush back in its glass. “Freddie?”

His brown eyes shifted to him, and he forced a semblance of a smile to reassure him. “Oh, don’t worry about me.”

But of course, he did worry. “Fred.” He got closer, and layed his hand on his shoulder. “You know you-”

“Rog.” He took his friend’s hand off his shoulder, slightly annoyed. “Please, drop it.” 

The blonde opened his mouth to reply, but ultimately, he said nothing. He knew how stubborn Freddie could be. He had a habit of confining his problems, hiding from others things of which he was suffering from, even from Brian and John, even from him, and it was no use trying to make him talk if he refused to do so. He didn’t like it at all, but he understood his friend didn’t want to focus on the break up. His comforting gestures from earlier had helped, but it didn’t change the fact he was heartbroken, and there wasn’t much he could say to make him feel better.

“…Okay.” He pursed his lips, still wanting to say something that could hopefully help. Feeling powerless was horrible. “Just-I’m here for you, if you ever need me. And I’m not only talking about tonight.” 

Freddie gazed into his eyes, filled with nothing but love and affection, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. 

“Thank you, dear.” He said, and the new silence in the room felt really uncomfortable. No point of staying here for any longer. “…Well, ‘wish you a good night.”

“You too Freddie.” Roger said softly, his clear eyes lingering on the singer.

He watched him leave the room, his heart feeling heavy. 

  


**-***-**

  
As he walked into his room, he was hit by the silence. An uncomfortable, oppressing absence of sounds. A painful, obvious absence of a certain person. A car passed outside, but the distraction was brief, and then he could hear, feel his heartbeat again, and notice the faint, regular sound of his small clock on the bedside table. The light was dim, but he still could make out the light colour of the cover, the shape of his bed, so large and so empty. He still could see how no one was waiting for him, with the perspective of kisses and a relaxing, tender moment after a hard day of work. At least one place where he could fully express, without having to fear anything and hide from everyone, how much he loved his boyfriend, with love words and gestures.

Slowly, he sat on his bed, and turned on the bedside lamp. A warm, orange light illuminated the room, highlighting the black wooden cat-shaped clock, and next to it, a small photo of Joe and him. 

He should have tried not to look at it, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The picture had been taken last year, here in his home. The both of them were fixing the camera with a large smile, each with a cat on their thighs; he was leaning against Joe’s shoulder, and they were beaming with absolute happiness. He was even showing a bit of his teeth. The teeth he hated, the ones of which his boyfriend affirmed many times they were making him cuter. 

His heart tightened. Almost unconsciously, he took the photo in hand, and his eyes lingered on Joe. Sweet, caring, loving Joe, who made the most delicious dishes, who always had a smile for him, whose strong arms would provide the best hugs. And now he was gone, most probably on his way back to New York. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to the memory of his boyfriend. “I-I didn’t want to hurt you…” 

No one responded to his words. Freddie felt horrible. 

“I love you.” A lump started to form inside his throat. “…I-I hope you’ll find yourself a nice boyfriend out there. Someone who won’t end up making you drink. Someone with pretty teeth. Someone who won’t s-screw up things-”

Something light and soft rubbed against his arm. He slightly turned his head, and saw Tom looking at him, with his golden eyes. Jerry was just next to him, also looking at him. As if his babies showed up to stop him from going down with the self-depreciated comments.

He clumsily put back the cherished photo on the bedside table, and gave much deserved caresses to the two cats, who started to purr and rub themselves against his hands. Eventually, a shy smile appeared on his face. It felt good to know at least two beings who would always stay with him, be there to comfort him and love him unconditionally. 

“What would I do without you two…”

He wished he could have continued petting Tom and Jerry until the end of the night, but he was exhausted and he wanted to sleep, even if he doubted he would be able to. So he gave each of them a kiss on their furry head, before sliding under the cover. Both of the cats simply moved on the right side a bit and laid next to him on the second pillow, purring almost in unison, making the silence of the room and the emptiness of his bed much more bearable.

He gave to each of them another caress under the jaw. “Good night Tom. Good night Jerry.”

He turned off the lamp and settled his head on his soft pillow, before closing his eyes. There was still an empty space on the other side of the bed, an empty space which would stay this way for an unknown period of time – for too long already – but he felt a bit better, surrounded by their much needed presence and soothing purring. Hearing his heartbeat and the faint tick-tock sound didn’t bother him as much. 

  


**-***-**

  
Weird. Everything felt weird.

He was surrounded by darkness, but he could perfectly see Freddie, standing in front of him. He had a perplexed expression on his face, and the fact he was staying perfectly still was unnerving.

“H-Hey, Freddie.” He tried to smile, unsure of what to do.

But his friend didn’t respond, didn’t move a finger either, simply continuing to fix him, without even blinking.

“I… I love you Fred.” He blurted out, after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “I’m in love with you.”

The singer snorted, then shook his head. “Too easy Roger. I’m not the Freddie you should tell this to.”

“B-but it’s true! I love you-”

Freddie suddenly stepped forwards, pointing a finger on his chest. He now had an accusing look on his face. “Oh I don’t have doubts about your feelings you’ve been incapable of telling. You knew about me. You knew you could have had your chance. If you had just possessed a bit more of braveness at that time, maybe Freddie wouldn’t have been crying about breaking up with his boyfriend today.” 

Roger felt incapable of responding, taken aback by his harsh tone.

“Good thing Dominique popped up eventually, uh?” He said with a mocking voice. “So much easier to find the confidence to ask her out. After all, Freddie had David now. Too bad for you.” 

“W-What the fuck do you want?” 

“Oh, but now, Freddie doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore!” He continues, making wide gestures and ignoring his question. “You can bring back the feelings, the untold “I love you” and the sexual fantasies. Maybe this time, Roger could do _something_…”

He winked at him several times, a tensed smile on his face, before majestically turning around and walking away.

Roger called for him, and that was when he opened his eyes. Only darkness and silence greeted him.

He blinked a few times, slowly registering what happened. …Of course he had to dream about _that_.

“Fuckin-” He froze. Something soft sniffed him, then rubbed itself against his cheek. “What-”

“Jerry no, come back here!” A voice whispered desperately. 

He heard a familiar mewl right next to his ear, and the soft fur silently walked away from him. He wriggled to the edge of the mattress, and waved his arm until he felt the lamp under his hand. His fingers quickly found their way to the switch, and orange light illuminated the room, making him shut his eyes for a second. He heard another familiar mewl close to him, a different one from earlier. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Tom and Jerry, standing on the bed next to him, and Freddie, who was sheepishly standing under the frame of the door.

“Sorry.” He said, head down, holding his hands together. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He squinted, and grabbed his watch, which was on the bedside table. It was around half-past two. What was Freddie doing up this late?

“I- Tom and Jerry weren’t supposed to follow me. I should have stayed in my bed.” The silence came back in the room, and he felt more and more stupid, standing there, like a scared child. “…Sorry, I’ll just leave you alone.”

“You don’t need to.” He firmly assured, before the singer could walk away. He effectively didn’t move from his spot. “…That’s not your fault. I woke up from a dream before Softball got here.” He gave Jerry a caress between his ears.

“Oh.” Freddie looked away; he seemed to be thinking. “…What kind of dream?” He asked eventually.

In another circumstances, Roger could have responded with a dirty joke, but the soft way his friend had asked the question, it was like he was asking if he had a nightmare.

“…Oh, just weird shit. Nothing important.” He assured, making a dismissive gesture. “…What about you?”

…Did Freddie have-

“Did you have a nightmare?” 

Freddie looked away, and stayed silent, his lips squirming. Given the expression on his face, it was obvious he hadn’t pleasant things in mind. It would explain why he was up at such an hour. But if a nightmare had steered him to get up and walk to his room to try to seek comfort, it meant it must have been quite bad. He couldn’t say he would be surprised, considering what happened to him today and how quickly things could escalate in dreams. Maybe he could help him, say something to make him feel better. But he couldn’t do it without knowing what was wrong.

“C’mon Fred, if you need to talk, I’m here, remember? And the bed’s large enough for the two of us.” He showed a warm smile.

Freddie hesitated for a moment, but ultimately fought the thought saying he was overstaying his welcome. He walked to Roger, and gently moved Tom and Jerry so he could take their place. The two cats settled at the end of the bed, and their owner sat next to his friend. He thought the cats were pretty cute, snuggled against each other. He wished he could snuggle against Freddie, whose eyes were avoiding his’. He seemed to be blushing – it was hard to tell with the warm light.

Roger, wanting to reassure him, laid his hand on his shoulder. Brown eyes glanced at him, but looked away again. He frowned, and moved even closer, slipping his arm around his back and resting his hand on his side. Better. He appreciated feeling his friend so close to him. And it was the same for Freddie, who felt cared for, less alone. He leaned his head against his shoulder, and realised how much the room was silent. It was okay though, his friend was there with him, for him, as indicated by his slow and regular breath, the pleasant contact of his fingers on his side. He could stay like this for hours. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he decided to talk. “…It’s not… It’s two things. It’s- first it’s my room. It felt so silent, and empty, and…” His heart tightened, and a sigh escaped his lips. “…I miss Joe. I already miss having someone… close. Someone I can call my boyfriend.” 

“I understand. And the second thing?”

“’Nightmare.” He briefly said, taking the time to put his thoughts in words. “…I dreamt about the fight. With Joe. Only it was much worse.” All the words, the blows exchanged, felt too real, painful. “And… I dreamt about you too.”

That got Roger surprised. “Me?”

“…I dreamt you… You were there, comforting me. And it felt really good, until you… until I ended up alone. You weren’t there anymore, and I was afraid you were gone forever.” He unconsciously leaned more into his embrace. 

He wasn’t surprised to hear that; he knew that one of Freddie’s biggest fears was to be abandoned. It hit pretty close to his heart. He has his own nightmares with Freddie disappearing, or leaving him. Some dreams were just horrible. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll never leave you.” He assured with a soft voice. “Even after my death, my ghost will stay by your side.”

Freddie snorted. “Romantic.”

He couldn’t help but blush a bit. Good thing they weren’t face to face. “I mean it! Even death won’t separate us!”

“Alright, alright, but please, could you drop the death talk?”

“Fine. But I’m telling it again-” He moved from his spot under the cover so he could face his friend, while being careful of not accidentally knocking one of the cats out of the bed. He firmly laid his hands on his shoulders, and fixed him with his clear eyes, filled with love and affection. “I’ll always be by your side. Taylor and Mercury. Roger and Freddie. You’re nowhere near getting rid of me, I can assure you.” He added with a large smile and a wink.

Freddie responded with a smile, and warped his arms around his waist, feeling immensely grateful for having such a great friend. As for Roger, he returned the embrace, appreciating the warmth of his body.

“I hope so Roggie. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He said with a soft voice, making the blonde feel warm inside.

“Same for me Fred.” He started to gently stroke his back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They stayed like this for a while, in the comfort of each other’s arms, lulled by the purring of Tom and Jerry. It felt good, hearing Roger’s reassuring words; he needed to know someone would always be there for him. He was his dearest friend, and he hoped above all their friendship would always stay strong, that nothing would come between them, that they wouldn’t drift apart from each other, like it could happen to best friends unfortunately. 

He knew that eventually, Roger would have a son or a daughter, would bring new responsibilities, such as spending more time with his girlfriend and child, and less with him. More seriousness, less fun. But… he would always be here for him. Right?

A loud yawn interrupted his thoughts, and he realised how hard it was to keep his eyes open. “…Rog, I’m tired.”

“Oh, I know. ‘M knackered too.” He muttered, feeling pretty comfortable between Freddie’s arms. 

Maybe he could fall asleep like this. But then, he felt some cold hit his body, as his friend leaned backwards, breaking the embrace. He showed him a last look and a smile, and the blonde thought that he could stay here. As he moved towards the edge of the bed, he quickly grabbed one of sleeves. 

“Y’ don’t have to leave.” He said, as Freddie turned around. “The bed’s large enough for us two.”

His brown eyes were filled with surprise. “…You… You don’t mind if I sleep here?”

“Nooo, I don’t give a fuck.” He insisted, tugging on his sleeve, and his legs slipped under the cover. “C’mon. I don’t want the bed to get cold.”

The perspective of leaving Roger’s company to go back to his empty bed didn’t exactly thrill him. He would probably sleep better tonight if he wasn’t alone. So in a swift, he joined his friend under the cover, and settled comfortably on the second pillow. He turned towards Roger, and he realised how close they were, despite the bed’s width. The pillows weren’t in contact, but if he were to move to the left in his sleep, he would probably end up halfway onto him. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen, or he was certain Roger would smack him. 

It was obvious the blonde was tired, but he had a sparkle in his eyes, and a warm smile on his face. Freddie couldn’t help but blush. The last he had slept with his friend in a same bed threw him back to a few years already. Being in the same bed now felt… _particular_. It wasn’t like something would happen, like Roger was his boyfriend or he was interested in men. Maybe it was because the distance between them wasn’t big, maybe it was his distracting pretty smile, maybe it was because it felt good not to sleep in an empty bed tonight, he didn’t know. He couldn’t really put a word on the thing he was feeling. It was particular, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Roger moved to the edge of the bed, and reached out for the lamp switch. A click, and the room went immersed by darkness. He settled comfortably, and the silence reappeared. Not for long though.

“You better not smack me in your sleep.”

“I’m afraid I can’t promise it dear. And please, if that happens, don’t throw me off the bed. You’d be very nice.”

“Mmh. We’ll see if I want to be nice.” He said, while fully knowing that if Freddie accidentally ended up stuck to him during the night, he might enjoy it. “Anyway, good night Fred.”

“Good night Rog.”

And this time, the silence stayed undisturbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :)  
Don't hesitate to leave kudos and a comment, they're always helpful and appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to set my story with the help of canon events (I read Mark Blake's Is This The Real life and I started to read Phoebe's book). By the way, does anyone happens to know when exactly Freddie grew his mustache? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)  
Don't hesitate to leave kudos and a comment, they're always helpful and appreciated.


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